A Girl's Shape
by Kelpie Green
Summary: So . . . what if everything wasn't as it seemed and Harry isn't really a b. . . oops I've said too much. REVIEW and get more!
1. Chapter 1

1As my first fanfic I hope y'all will be nice to me. Reviews and suggestions are appreciated! Disclaimer: I do not own in any way shape or form the wonderful universe that is Harry Potter.

Ch.1 A Girl's Shape

1 year ago

During the summer I would go into the mountains behind our manor. I can remember a time when my mother took me and everything was good. So I go to the mountains, alone now, during break.

It was something I could count on. Mountains are always there, solid, wonderfully, wonderfully solid and always, always there.

One day, that one day, was the one when everything came crashing down.

It was cold that morning and my toes were numb, despite the warming charm I used. Despite the ministry, or, perhaps because of it, I can cast such spells while away from school. Gold paves roads.

I am bitter.

I had climbed aways and stopped. The mountain was quiet, the only sound was the shushing of the grass and a single, lonely tree. Pausing to catch my breath, I saw it. A person, on a broom, in a dive, like a Wronksi Feint. Only this was so much more. Not a maneuver, but a dance. I was drawn to it . . . the wild beauty I had never seen, much like a moth to flames. It was not perfection.

I have seen perfection.

I have seen it in the shape of my mother: long, silky, blond hair; flawless, white skin; red lips; black gown. Perfect. The Ice Queen. Cold and crazy. Yes, I can see it. My mother is going insane. She walks the halls at night, talking and dancing with imagined specters and sweet, nostalgic music from far off memories.

My father, on the other hand . . . ha, my father. At one time I wanted to be just like him, it was my greatest aspiration. I wanted nothing more than for him to be proud of me. So, I became perfect.

That, is why I was drawn to it. The indescribable, beautiful imperfection. A dance in the air, in the center of a secluded mountain range, drawn to what I am not.

Whoever was riding that broom, the dancer . . . I needed to meet them, desperately. Never had I needed anything so fiercely.

The rider touched down. They were small, in height and frame, dressed in black with black hair.

I drew closer.

Who was it?

I jumped back, burned by the fire I had been drawn to.

"Hello Draco," it was a girl. Pretty, wild, with green eyes that glittered. I was frozen, I should have said something. I know it now, more's the pity I knew it then.

She sat down under the tree. "Join me," she said and patted the grass beside her.

I sat down and we watched the sky.

"Who are you?"

"You don't recognize me?" She asked, blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"Should I?"

She sighed, as if tired by it all. Instead of responding she lay down on the grass and looked up at the leaves of the tree we were under. I noticed she went barefoot. I looked at her hand. It was fine boned, callused, and bore a faint scar that read, "I must not tell lies," and looked very familiar. As it should, I had only seen the same writing a million times at school. She said I knew her, this wild girl.

Black, messy hair; tan skin; full, pink lips; and shining, green eyes. But, something was peeking out from under her bangs. I brushed them aside impatiently. It was a scar, one that had been aggravated lately. It had the familiar zig-zag shape of a lightning bolt.

I jumped back once again. There was no possible chance this was Potter. "So you figured it out," came her . . . no, his voice.

"All right Potter! What the hell are you trying to pull?" Everything was strange; the world had been overturned. My world had crashed and fallen into many tiny, jagged pieces, like those of a window or mirror.

He looked up, "Nothing."

"Hiding in fear from the Dark Lord?" I sneered. It was a pathetic retort, but a retort nonetheless.

The Gryffindor drew shapes in the grass. "The Boy-Who-Lived can't really be a girl, now can she?"

It clicked. And that is how my once most hated enemy became my best friend.


	2. Chapter 2 Snape's Suspicions

Yay! I have reviewers! _Dances! _Thank you wizli and emeraud.silver! My first two reviewers! You can tell I'm new can't you? Oh well, I'm too happy right now. Anywho I don't own Harry Potter at all. Nada! Sigh, I wish I did though; it would make my life easier.

Chapter 2 Snape's Suspicions

It was the twenty first of October 1995. Severus Snape remembered that date for a very good reason. It was the day he had stumbled across Harry Potter's secret. October twenty first was also the day that started a series of events that turned his world upside down, then spun around, until it was puking into the toilet named reality.

It all started that morning at breakfast, something odd happened. No, the weather was fine, a little overcast, nothing unexpected there. His breakfast was fine, although his coffee had been a bit sweet, but that was expected also, every twenty first of every month Albus coerced a house elf into putting cream and sugar into his coffee, which irritated Snape to no end. Snape liked his coffee black: black and bitter. What was odd was that Harry Potter was late to breakfast. Potter was usually one of the first down. Not, Snape noticed, because Potter was hungry, but because he was an early riser and had nothing better to do. Then, once Potter finally showed, he had an argument with Weasley and Granger, seemingly over Potter's decision to only have a cup of strong of tea for breakfast.

Later, in Potions, Potter had been especially inattentive, distracted even. Now, it wasn't as if Potter did pay attention normally, because everyone knew, that at best Potter paid half attention, but today, it was blatantly obvious. Also, Potter looked somewhat effeminate, more so than usual. Something was off. As soon as the bell rang Potter sprinted out of the classroom, leaving, as far as Snape could see, his cloak, his bottled potion, and an incredibly confused Weasley.

Potter wasn't eating lunch. Snape knew, he had checked. Wasn't with Dumbledore, on the Quidditch Field, in Gryffindor Tower, or an empty classroom. It was like the boy had vanished off the face of the Earth.

As Snape stalked to his rooms, he passed Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and wondered why the hell Dumbledore bothered to keep the ghost. That's when he heard it: a voice. No, not of that stupid ghost or a girl, at least Snape didn't think so. No, it was extremely familiar, too familiar; in fact now that he thought about it, it sounded a lot like . . . "Potter!" Snape bellowed, bursting into the bathroom, his robes settling about him. On the floor, in front of two smoking cauldrons, sat Harry Potter.

Snape looked at the potions . . . then at Potter . . . then at the potions . . . then at Potter. Or at least, he tried to look at Potter; Potter's damned hair was in the way. He gripped Potter's chin in his hand, his fingernails digging into Potter's skin, lifted and let go in surprise.

"If I may go, _sir_? Lunch is nearly over and I'm sure neither of us would like to miss anymore of it." Now, it was obvious, Harry Potter was no more male than Snape was female, which he was not. Of this at least, Snape was sure.

"Oh no, _Ms_. Potter, you will come with me and you will follow my questions." And they marched out of damp bathroom, Potter in front of Snape, so as to not lose her. No, not now that he had finally found her. Severus Snape was going to get to the bottom of this.

Alright, end! So, I'm thinking each chapter will be from a different person's point of view and I hope to make whose view it is clear. Yes, there is a plot to this, and yes, questions will be answered in the next chapter. But you'll just have to wait and see. I have school . . . sigh . . . and the day after that I have honors chemistry . . . I really am horrible in that class . . . its yucky . . . and my teacher isn't allowed to do fun type explosion type demonstrations anymore. Safety regulations take the fun out of everything.


	3. Chapter 3 Did You Ever Stalk My Mother?

Alrighty, I have updated!!!!! YAAAAAAAAAYYYY!!! Finally, ay dios mios! You know, I don't really like my Spanish class either. I don't like talking and we had to talk for fifteen minutes . . . icky! Comparatively not so bad, but I like to complain, it's what I do . . . sad as that is. Oh! But I did talk about Harry Potter, which I do not own in any way shape or form by the way, so it's not so bad. Just a brief mentioning, we had to talk about what we did over break, oooh come back winter vacation! All is forgiven! Sorry, I know none of you are interested in my ravings and problems.

On another note, for the last chapter, those of you that reviewed, _hem hem, _said that Snape was funny, or at the very least was Harry-obsessive. I'm going to try to explain what I meant to convey. Lord knows this is going to be painful, but bear with me, please.

Alright, first off Snape is a paranoid bastard. He is. He's spied for both Voldemort and Dumbledore and he doesn't know who's around the corner . . . well alright he might, but it's just an expression. Before all else, Snape is a Slytherin and he's looking out for number one.

Now, what, or more to the point, who, could most affect Snape's precarious position? Harry Potter. Not only does Harry know Snape is a spy, Harry is also worthless at Occlumency. Sorry Harry dear, but its true. Well okay, not completely worthless, but unless extremely angry, Harry is open to pretty much any attack, especially, as proven, when asleep. There is a chance somebody, my bets on Voldemort, could sneak in and search around Harry's mind for any given piece of information and come across Snape's position. And please remember, I do not include Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, because not only do I not particularly like it, it also makes my fanfics, first drafted after HP numero cinco, moot.

Also, who has the most influence on both Voldemort and Dumbledore? Harry Potter. If Harry wanders outside of Hogwarts, what happens? Voldemort, Dumbledore, or both show up. If Harry is in danger, it puts Snape under scrutiny. Harry is captured, Dumbledore's gonna wanna know why Snape isn't helping out. If Snape helps Dumbledore out, Voldemort's gonna suspect underhanded sorts of plots. Snape's well being rests partially on Harry's well being.

And then, there's the still lingering influence of James Potter. On the one hand, Snape still has a bit of a life-debt, so its like, "Bugger, I've still gotta watch after that damn brat or I'm a lowly worm." And at the same time, "Bugger, its Potter's kid. Miserable boy, maybe I can get him kicked out." So, if Snape follows Harry around, not only does he get a chance to fulfill that nagging life-debt, it also gives him a chance to get Harry in trouble.

That, and Snape hates secrets that aren't his. He knows Harry's hiding something, he's sure of it and he can't stand not knowing.

Tah-dah! How'd I do?

Right then, moving on. If you have any points to make, feel free to review; say something! Please! REVIEW!

Chapter 3 My Mother Was A Feminist

. . . He threw me down on a chair, on a really, really, quite hard chair. He then paced; back and forth. Back and forth. His steps clicked on the stone floor. His robe billowed out behind him and the torches on the wall cast a long shadow. I soon grew dizzy from watching the hypnotizing swirl of black cloth.

At a point in his pacing, he paused, turned his head to the side, and glared at me with loathing as well as something not quite decipherable. Cnfusion maybe?

He threw a word at me, "Explain."

"Explain what exactly? Do you mean how I exist? Or how I was born? Perhaps the mystery of life, sir?"

"Potter, you know very well what I mean."

"Well Professor, you see, when two people, Lily and James Potter in this case, happen to love each other very much—"

"Silence! Stop evading the question. Why have you been masquerading as a boy for all six years you have been here?"

By this time Snape was furious, his nostrils flared and his pale cheeks had two high pinkish spots of rage. His black eyes bore down on me and every word was accompanied by spit. He was a damn terrifying sight.

"Because my mother was a feminist."

"Potter!" Snape slammed his hands on the arms of the chair. "You don't seem to appreciate the gravity of this situation."

"Oh no professor. I appreciate gravity just fine. It's what's holding me down on planet Earth after all."

"I tire of your impertinence, whelp," he crossed the room to his desk and pulled out a stoppered vial. It held a colorless potion. "Do you know what this is, Potter?"

Certainly not vodka; that was too much to ask for from Old Snivellus.

"Wait, haven't we already been through this? I'm getting an odd sense if de ja vu." That really blew his top.

He dangled the vial in front of my face. "Do not tempt me, Potter. I'm sure many a reporter would love to hear all about your darkest desires and most private nightmares."

"Tell me sir, did you ever stalk my mother? You seem the type." Wrong thing to say. Snape looked even more murderous than before, I certainly didn't think it possible.

He then popped open the stopper and grabbed my face, tilted my head back and held the vile over my mouth, when my knight in shining armor appeared. Well, not really.

There was a loud clatter. We both looked over.

"Aw, shite." It was Draco and a bottle of . . . fire whiskey? Why was he here. . . and drinking? The dumbass.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape was murderous and confused, more so than before . . . great.

"Yes sir?"

"What in Slytherin's name are you doing here, boy?!"

"Saving Harry, of course. I'd've thought for sure this would be the time you remembered something from before. After all, this is only the fifth time this quarter I've had to save her unlucky arse from your dastardly clutches."

"Yes, yes Draco, I get the point." I couldn't help it. "You know, I think we've really addled his brain. It's taking longer and longer for him to figure it out. Soon enough there won't be enough to fit in a potion's vial."

"What, we shouldn't obliviate him this time?"

I looked at him.

"You want to tell him the whole story?! You're insane Harry! Absolutely, completely, bloody insane! A bloody, stupid Gryffindor. Remind me, why do I put up with you?"

"'Cause I'm a babe magnet?"

He gave me an appraising look, "Psh, you wish."

"No, that's your wish. Sorry Draco, it's just; I'm tired of re-doing this every time. I mean, I know he's," I motioned in Snape's direction . . . "wait, where's Snape?"

"No, Ms. Potter, do go on," he said and his fingers dug into my shoulder.

"Stupefy!" Snape fell to the ground in an undignified flump.

"Draco!" I glared at him. Why did you do that? When he wakes up he'll be furious." I tried getting my point across. I don't think the random hand gesture helped much.

Draco raised his eyebrow in typical Malfoy fashion, "Well, Potter as you couldn't seem to get it together and he was about to truth serum us both, it was the best option. Besides he won't take points off me."

I resisted the urge to smack my forehead on the floor. No, I let Draco have the privilege.

"Bitch! What was that for!?"

"Draco, dear, shut up! I've got an idea."

"Oh, now she has an idea."

"Shut up!"

So, you know, review, please! Oh, and if any one is thinking something along the lines of, "OMG! That's like, so not fair, it's like, February already!" Please know, I started this back in . . . um, maybe a week after winter break. And I'm sixteen now! Young ain't I. So, you know, anyone wants to give a birthday gift, you could review . . . or perhaps go to the top of this page, find where its says Kelpie Green, click it, and read my other stories, and review those. I'd be completely gracious and all that. Plus, if you do, it'll give me more incentive to update more often! So yah! REVIEW! . . . And if I need to stop with the rhetorical questions, don't not tell me.


	4. Chapter 4 Truth Is Only Relatively Red

Thank you to all my reviewers! I loves you! AGGGGHHHH LOVES! Hokay, now that I've got that out, few notes and we'll get started.

Well first, got to apologies for my little rant last chapter, just I dunno, I'm trying to stay in character and sometimes I find fics where Snape is all like "ooooh Haaaarrryyy, kiss me again, Harry! Ooh I love you so much! I don't know how I can hide it anymore!" Nothing against all you Snarry shippers out there, its just, out of character Snape pisses me off. He can be cruel, he is a bit petty and I'm ranting again . . . sorry everyone. Anyway, sorry if I took up too much space with my little explanation rant thingie, everything's open to interpretation right? It'd be cool if spelling were up to interpretation, but that nobody would be able to read anything, huh?

Anyway, since everyone loves Draco sooo much he's coming back; he is pretty instrumental to the plot/story/ whatever this is. And I'm basically gonna rotate POV's, and it'll follow the same pattern; Draco, Snape, Harry, Draco, Snape, Harry, etc, etc. . . unless I kill someone off . . . hehehe.

So, now that I've taken up some space, here we go, **drum roll**, proudly presenting, the long awaited, the lovely, the fabulous: Chapter 4.

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Chapter 4 Truth Is Only Relatively Red

Blue smoke on black sky.

Thin lace over heavy velvet.

Single life before ageless universe.

I reached my hand out to play with it. Tangled my fingers in it. Weaved the smoke into translucent figures. They bowed and caressed; fought and danced.

Fragrance tickled my nose, and the sharply sweet smell fled up, up, up to my brain. Then down, down, down and around, around, around until my whole body tingled and thudded to match my heart beat.

The smoothness slid over my palm easily. Lurked around the pale columns of fingers. Slipped over the steps of my knuckles. Floated in and out of nails.

Views from the open Astronomy Tower are always magnificent and I could not help but smirk back at the silver moon's malicious grin.

"Draco?" Came Harry's insistent voice. She finished her fag and rubbed it out on the stone floor. The butt flared once, then died. Our breath pushed and ripped at the smoke until it was gone.

"Yes, Harry?" Ours was an easy camaraderie.

"Do you believe he will come?"

I looked down at her. I shouldn't have been surprised. I wasn't. Not really.

"Yes, I do believe he will."

"How can you be sure?" Her voice was rough with worry, exhaustion, and need; a whole plethora of emotions she would never, could never, give in to for fear she would sink in and be swept away; drowned by the ocean of her emotions and she would never come back up.

She looked down at the half-empty carton of fags.

"How can you be so damn confidant he won't be a bastard and tell, and everything won't be lost because of my bloody compassion? That he won't ignore me and simply mark me worthless, like a stack of term papers. Worthless and failed, all disfigured in red. Red. Red. Red. Red like blood. Red like Gryffindor. Red like me." Her breath caught.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She is quite tiny.

"Harry, don't be an idiot. Stop worrying about your thrice-damned compassion. Treasure your bloody compassion. I don't know how you managed to hold on to it after living with those fecking animals for so long. Besides, caution is all very well, but too much and you'll become paranoid. Now, paranoia is all very well, but too much and you'll spit out all your secrets along with your breakfast, just like the proper Gryffindor you are."

She gave a watery chuckle. "I did this for a number of years before you came along Mr. Draconis Janus Lucius—"

I placed my hand over her mouth, "Shh. Yes, you did. But," I paused dramatically, "you'll survive better with me."

She bit my hand.

"Anyway, Snape's too curious not to come. And I'll be there; I won't leave you alone with him; I won't submit you to his questionable mercies."

She nodded, although I doubt she heard me. "Draco?"

"Yes love?"

"Tell me a story."

"Sure. Um . . . in a forest lived three mudbloods."

"Draco," she whined.

"Right, right. Once upon a time there lived three _muggleborns_; a father, a mother, and a daughter. They were sitting down to a lovely meal when a shadow fell across the room. The family grew very scared; they shrank close together and shivered from the chill running down their spines. The shadow became smaller and went away. The family relaxed and chatted happily again. And then the shadow came again and they shrank back, further; farther than last time. And to the muggleborns' terror, the shadow revealed itself to be a lethifold and gobbled them all up."

"Draco, don't be so stupid; tell me a different story."

"As the Princess Harry commands." I sneered, somewhat rebuking. She could be quite a prat at times. "Which one would the Princess like?"

"I dunno. One about a flower."

"As you command, Your Highness."

"Please don't call me that."

"All right, I won't." I pulled her closer. "Right, a flower. I know one, it's a fairytale my mother used to tell me when I was younger." I paused, unsure how to start.

"Once upon a time there was a flower. Now, this was not just any flower, this was a special flower; one that everyone knew about, but also one that no one had ever seen. However everyone knew what it looked like, for there was a tale; a myth; a fable; a story with just a whisper of truth in it. It was a bitter story, pretty and shiny to look at and hear, but prickly and sharp when anyone tried to look deeper.

"This story spoke of a rose, a rose the blue of all clear, cloudless skies and the scent as clean and clear as fresh honey stolen from bees and the morning after heavy rain. But this rose had something more; something to make it worth lusting for: its nectar would make any drinker, who dared to find it, immortal.

"Of course, many had searched for this rose, but none found it. The only shred of a clue that hung about was that of a mountain: a mountain of men's corpses. And from the corpses grew the rose.

"No one found the rose and the rumor of such a wondrous thing faded. Disinterest bleached out the color of the story until it became nothing more than a fairytale, not to be believed, not to be listened to: good for nothing but entertainment. Over time, even the fairytale became dust and the rose was forgotten to all and any. The worst part of it all is the rose still sits there, wishing and waiting for some one to come for it and yet, even with all of eternity, no one will."

I stopped, my story finished. The air was silent and a soft mumble drew my attention to the sleeping girl leaning against me. I hoped she didn't drool.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed." I lifted her up and carried her, bridal style, off the tower. It's funny really, those little moments of nostalgia that hit you when you least expect it. They really give a sucker punch and leave you gasping for air. Sometimes, I missed my mother even when she was alive. It seemed like a waste of time, wanting something when I already had it, but then she died, probably from nostalgia. She never could let go of her dreams from a better time.

And that's why I couldn't dwell too long on anything. I had someone to stay alive for, and damn it to hell if I died and let her down.

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so yah, end of chappie 4, hope ya'll liked it, if you review I'll love you forever. Mm, also, sorry if I kinda stole a little from Pan's Labyrinth, or El laberinto de faun, but the rose is just super awesome so . . . I don't own Pan's Labyrinth and I hope I don't get killed.

Now that that's been cleared up, I apologize for taking so long to update. Three parts to the reason behind me taking so long: two parts laziness and one part school shite. Anyway, please review! Puh-leeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaze!


	5. Exciting News?

So, its been a long time, Happy Holidays and all that. This is a larger preview of Chapter 5, as you can see it stops abruptly, that means I'm still working on it, and sad as I am not to release the rest, it still needs a lot of work.

BUT, I am rewriting this fic, and I've posted the much-elaborated on Chapter 1. If you'd like to check it out go ahead and tell me what you think. And I am writing a story – like a real story, with my own characters time consuming. Again, sorry it's taking so long. And, again, if anyone would like to apply as a beta-reader, I'd appreciate it . . . mine sorta' disappeared . . . eheh.

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In the distant but not so far off future

Shivering gray sunlight pushes through dirty windows and drops to dust slowly dancing on wood floors. Soft light drips onto an old dusty room full of books. Books from anywhere, written by anyone; about everything and nothing, lay in towering stacks of so many colors and texts and sizes, too, too many to ever begin to count.

Old hands stoke one beloved spine after another; each time hovering almost reverently, halting as if asking permission, and then reaching one thin and bony finger to gently caress the spine of another book from top to bottom.

Ancient fingers find a thick book with an untitled cover, once so beautiful to look at and now, like the owner of the hands, has lost its former magnificence in the sands of time as they swept past.

The book opens to a page containing a picture of three grinning and wildly waving children, shoulder to shoulder, with their backs to green fields and a sparkling lake.

Sharp brown eyes, never dulled by time or too many late nights reading with next to no light, softened with tears.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered, "whatever happened to us?"

She flipped through the next few pages and stopped at one of her and Draco Malfoy arguing, while Harry looked on and grinned. Her memories, like so many fragile spider webs, trembled from the light touch. She could remember the day that picture was taken.

In the distant but not so far off past

In the tallest, steepest tower of Hogwarts there resided a tower. This tower was filled with a sense of forgotten memories and hope long forgotten. An aged staircase spiraled all the way to the top of the tower, so frail that the slightest, most careful step would upset its perfect balance and send the whole thing tumbling down, never to be recreated.

This staircase led to a room, the highest, smallest room in the entire castle. In the room there was a bed and nothing else, just a bed and a stone floor. It was a bed, in the furthermost corner of the room, bedecked in dusty blankets and quilts. Upon this bed lay a princess with beautiful curls, most likely just as dusty as the bed and if she ever moved, the dust would float up to dance in any stray beam of light. But she never did, never sat up, never spoke or laughed. She never moved her lips, her eyes never flickered and she never read.

Well, all right, that's a lie; in fact it's pretty much all bullshit. It wasn't really the tallest tower, or the highest room. The staircase wasn't really all that fragile and she wasn't really all that asleep. There wasn't a bed either.

In fact, it was the third tallest tower and it was the second highest room in that tower; nowhere near the highest room at all. And it wasn't a dusty princess's room either. It was just the room of the current head girl of Hogwarts: Hermione Granger, who most certainly would never allow dust where she lived.

And, really she wasn't sleeping, or even sitting. She wasn't alone either; there were two other people in the room. However, these two were reclining on a couch and looked utterly at ease compared to the frantically pacing Hermione.

"You've got to be kidding me! What were you thinking?" She glared at the two hotheaded idiots across from her.

Draco Malfoy began to open his mouth, "Shut the hell up, Malfoy! I don't want to hear it! Here, I let you go on this mission alone, thinking you'll be calm and handle the situation. Then you had to let your true stupidity show through and turn this into a mess. What were you thinking?" Her eye twitched spasmodically, her fingers trembled; they itched to hold a wand; to curse something, namely an albino ferret.

"Hermione, luv, that's the fifth time you've asked Draco what he was thinking. I think, perhaps, he might understand the basic human language. You don't have to repeat it anymore." Harry muttered from the corner of the couch, huddled behind a pillow. Hah! As if a pillow could protect her.

"If he's so stupid as to not understand my instructions before he went to collect you, perhaps if I repeat them enough he'll remember them for next time."

"I thought there wasn't going to be a next time."

Hermione swept her gaze back at Malfoy. "Not anymore there won't be." She turned to look at Harry again. "But really Harry," Hermione looked at her, half reproaching, half threatening, "how could you let him go without at least making him swear to an oath or, or, obliviating, or something! Reckless behavior only causes problems!"

"Hermione," Harry had the decency to look a little ashamed. "I don't know what to do anymore, it's been four years and every day it's harder. Snape keeps finding out, and I can't focus and I made a mistake- I know! But what if he finds out again, only he doesn't catch me — what if he catches you, or maybe Madam Pomfrey, or Draco? I don't want you getting caught for something that's my fault. Add to that Dumbledore knows something. How could he not? This way, at least we'll know what Snape knows and if he betrays us, then we can obliviate him or something, but still have the information. And it was you who told me to trust people more, Hermione."

"Way to guilt trip me," Hermione admonished.

Harry grinned cheekily back at her.

"If I may intrude, there's a little something I think need be discussed." Draco interrupted.

"What?" Hermione snapped.

"Not to make you think that there are any happy feelings betwixt my godfather and myself but the fact that we've cast obliviate so many times worries me a bit. We all know too many times and a person's mind will go on a permanent vacation. It'll be mighty suspicious if the esteemed Potions Master Snape starts walking around not knowing the difference between a Swelling Solution and a Deflating Draught. Can you think of an alternative solution, oh, Miss Esteemed Bookworm?" Draco sneered.

"Well, before I do anything, I need you to shut up. Let's see, if we give him a potion he'll probably detect it. Legilimency might be a viable option. Maybe if-"

"-No, he's an expert, unless you know someone stronger with a better technique, that's screwed too-"

"-Well, maybe if we force him to take the potion-"

"-He never will-"

"-But if it's the only way he'll find out-"

"-He'd blackmail us or flip the tables somehow. I thought you were clever; can't you come up with a solution that doesn't result in everything landing tits up?"

"Well you come up with an idea then, if you're so clever!"

"Fine then I will- I-"

"FLASH!"

"AAGGGHHH!"

Harry looked resigned, "Hello Luna. Where did you get the camera?"

"What if you made him swear to an Unbreakable Vow?" she suggested.

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And the plot thickens . . . so yah, there it is. Driving is scary, send me a review and I might venture out of my non-moving mountain of blankets. Toodles!


End file.
